Are you cold, old Friend,
there in the ground, where we put you,
wrapped in fur, and breathing
no more; no more agony;
are you cold?
Do the stones press hard, shall I dig
to pull them back?

Old Friend, the life we lived
was hard for you, I know.
It was not the one you chose, nor I,
and not the one I'd give you
if I could.

Old Friend, you carried me;
this is a secret
which you did not know;
you thought
I carried you.

Old Friend, are you colder
than the cold North Road,
when thee and me, we fled the pain
together?

Old Friend, are you colder
than the night I had to leave you
in the dark, dead car?
How did you forgive me?
You had a talent I could never match
for honest, loving trust.

Old Friend, are you cold?
Shall I climb in with you
and be warm?